


Metal Mouth, Metal Legs

by JQ (musicmillennia)



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Cybernetic Wolves, Cyberpunk, Cyborgs, Dragons, Dystopia, Gen, Genetic Engineering, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, M/M, Multi, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 13:56:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6613270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/JQ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say that once you go into that room, you don't come out the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [languageismymistress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/languageismymistress/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Money and Madness](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6612115) by [nirejseki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nirejseki/pseuds/nirejseki). 



> bro I am so far up the dragon tree and once I read robininthelabyrinth's dragonholder piece i climbed another thirty branches and breached the canopy. I hope you like the aftermath.
> 
> I wanted to write my bae some more smol Barry. I'm sorry my muse fucked up, Scarlet.

It's not the room itself that scares everyone; they just say it is so they don't have to think about what really frightens them. What's  _inside_ the room doesn't dare pass anyone's lips.

They say that when you go inside the room, you don't come out the same. Since the world became a sphere of steel and metal, many things are no longer the same, but this...this somehow sounds so much worse.

Still, they tell Barry that he won't feel a thing. That he'll be better than before, more complete—their word, not his. They say everyone's just superstitious.

After all, how could sharing a soul with a  _dragon_ be a bad thing?

* * *

Barry Allen used to be a ray of hope. The Flash, the Scarlet Speedster, the Man Who Saved Central City...his list of titles gets long and ridiculous. The point is, when the wars hit, he protected his city as best he could.

By the time the new order found him, both of his legs were torn from his body; his right arm missing from the elbow; and his left eye disintegrated by a lucky blast. As they carted him off for restoration, Barry dimly wondered if he was going to the room. He'd heard a lot of rumors during the wars.

Once he's outfitted with limbs that work in sync to his speed, he is indeed taken to that room.

Funny how the hype actually built his expectations; Barry was prepared to see an elaborate torture chamber, or maybe even the Government's main office. But no—it's just a simple room, a box of grey metal. The only thing to recommend it is a grey egg tinted with light blue spots.

"You will be hers," they say. "She will be yours."

Barry's mechanical eye runs a few scans. With his system updates, he can determine that the dragon inside is indeed female, and what do you know, she's an Electric. Perfect for this new age—perfect for him. They've been experimenting with genetics; maybe they'd been hoping for this, combining just the right sequences in the hopes of making a dragon the same way they've started making human soldiers.

In other words, Barry is an experiment.

He finds that he doesn't mind. According to his internal database, if the Government sanctioned it, there isn't a problem.

(Inside the metal-fused bone, a human heart screams.)

So Barry sits and waits. He's not left alone for long; evidently she had been waiting for him.

With a creak of metal and soft cracks of once authentic shell, she comes into the world on a hiss of steam. She moves with easy grace, a lithe body of electric blue, infused with gunmetal gray markings forming a vague grid pattern just underneath the solid shade. She has no underbelly. Her head has a ruff, though, a complex layered thing that could almost pass for a lion's mane at a first glance. It flows with smooth electrical currents, a natural circuit board of grays and cerulean. Her face is round, forehead slightly jutted but not prominent enough to be particularly noticeable. She has only the barest hints of sharp fangs.

Her eyes have no pupils. Her wings are metal, thin appendages that don't exceed their necessary size.

She coils around his torso, his neck. Her steel talons dig into his skin and hold there, tail stabbing through his rib cage.

Barry relaxes. Lets her in. They seep into one another, wiring an unbreakable connection. Hers and his. His and hers. Theirs.

He coughs up blood. She leaves electric burns on and under his skin. He moans at the loss when she retreats from his insides.

But he's not bereft for long. Their souls are entwined; now it is time for their minds.

She slithers over his shoulders and buries her fangs into the back of his neck. She does not stop until she clenches on his spinal chord. Barry seizes; she directs him onto his side so she can continue unhindered. Next, she pushes one of her talons into her own skull. The resulting electrical current forces their brains to work on the same frequency.

Once they've both finished seizing, Barry lets out a feral groan, wrapping around her as she is wrapped around him. It's not so lonely anymore.

_Good day, Barry Allen._

Their currents heal his broken skin.  _Hello, Gideon._

* * *

As Barry slowly walks from the room, he can't say he feels very different. Gideon has become a natural extension of himself; it's all too easy to imagine that she has been with him his whole life. Her grating scales tighten around his torso as this thought is shared between them— _everything is shared, always_ —a familiar gesture she's never done.

Nevertheless, people part in distinct fear as Barry walks, Gideon clinging to him as a snake to her favorite toy. Only he is not a toy to her.

No, to her, he is everything.

As for Barry, well. He can't imagine existence without her. In a way, perhaps he never could.

* * *

Gideon will grow. She will be given short fore- and hindlegs so she resembles less of a snake and more of a newt in anatomy. But until then, her commander has his orders.

_Scarlet One: Engaged._


	2. Charlie-Oscar-Lima-Delta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol guess what inspired this? That's right. I was walking my dog.

What has been restored:

  * Jaw
  * Aorta
  * Arm, Right
  * Vocals



What has been enhanced:

  * Leg muscles, All
  * Heart, All
  * Vocals
  * Eyes
  * Hands
  * Teeth
  * Ears



Additions:

  * Core
  * Database, Cerebellum and Spinal Chord



Leonard presses against his throat cartilage. The mechanism clicks.

"Scan complete."

* * *

When he is taken into the room, Leonard Snart knows that he must do as they say. It is not because of his database, but for LisaMick.

He does not know what LisaMick is, but when he scans himself, he finds that it is ingrained in his prime directive. Not programmed,  _ingrained_. He decides not to report it.

The room is not at all what others have described in frightened whispers. Leonard recalls during his first days of admission into repairs that this room is where you change.

Leonard conducts another quick scan. He concludes that he has already changed drastically. What more can they do?

Perhaps he should not ponder this question.

In any case, this room is nothing remarkable. Simply a metal box.

"Wait here," they tell him. "You unit will come to you."

That had been his condition: he will not be in a unit he does not lead. He calls the shots, distributes the tasks. They had asked him if he would compare this to a hunt; he replied an affirmative. Suspicious.

He understands when his unit enters the room. That explains the extra setting on his vocal chords, the implants in his ears, the...he activates the claws in his right hand.

There are four of them: two big, one medium, one small enough to squeeze into tighter places. Tactical. Strategic.

 _Pack_.

At least, they will be, once he's done with them.

He switches to that new setting and adjusts his jaw. The sounds of whirring and skin stretching—his mouth gapes open, the length of two human hands.

Leonard howls, and they're on him.

He avoids damaging more than he can repair on his own; once he takes command, he does not intend to waste time on waiting for them to fix his pack. They swipe at him without such forethought.

Blood and oil slicks Leonard's skin. His core remains unharmed.

Within 5 minutes and 24.224 seconds, he is programming himself into their systems. They synchronize their directives, assimilating to Leonard's brain functions.

Once it is done, Leonard runs another scan. He switches between their sights, looks around with their necks. Directs them with a few hand signals from his own fingers.

Out of curiosity, he looks back at himself with the smallest one's eyes. Although they can only switch between cyber gray and infrared, their vision is perfectly clear.

His goggles are around his neck, revealing the thin, bulging circuits around his own eyes, which do not look nearly as dark as he remembers; in this point of view, they look white with tiny black pupils, and he sees his own mouth frown, head tilting. His jaw retracts, sharp pointed teeth hiding behind fleshy lips.

His right arm he knows is very much gray ( _like the gun,_ his  _gun,_ whispers the pained human heart, half-alive and railing against the core), and he switches between his hand and the slim barrel that makes his primary weapon. His costume is similar to the one he wore during the wars: dark blue jacket, darker blue shirt, black pants, combat boots. Of course his right arm overtakes its sleeve, sturdy black material covering the wiring underneath.

Interesting.

He returns to his own eyesight like flickers of a security camera. He growls low in his throat, summoning the biggest two behind him, smaller and medium on either side but not directly next to him.

They make quite an intimidating sight, he supposes, especially with him at the helm. Besides their sizes, their models are all more or less the same, give or take a few stray mechanical enhancements: gray wolves with solid cobalt blue eyes and lasor-like pupils. Their heads have patches of metal around them. They each possess a steel breastplate, upon which is the insignia of their unit: an ashen oak tree tipped with white. He will have this insignia on his arm's covering, he supposes.

"Report," they say.

He switches to his primary vocals. "Unit established. Systems updated and optimal."

It is his voice, certainly, but there is a hollow mechanical overlap. ( _"It's like you're speaking through a fan, Lenny!" oh, Lisa..._ )

Interesting.

They provide him with his first hunt. If he really is as good as they expect, no training will be needed after pack calibration.

Resistance daring to raid their ruins. A good opportunity for warm-up.

"Acknowledged."

* * *

Cold Five  
Unit Members:

  * Alpha: Leonard Snart
  * Beta (Small Model)
  * Gamma (Medium Model)
  * Delta (Large Model 1)
  * Epsilon (Large Model 2)



* * *

 His first run with his wolves feels like savage freedom, scents and sounds rushing with the taste of metallic air. Their delight pumps through his veins and circuitry, a united pulse of feet and paws that sound like the harrowing drums of battle.

His goggles are on, labeling beacons and icons in his vision as well as providing quicker switches between his four other pairs of eyes. They reach the old ruins in a mere two hours at their pace.

From there, it does not take long to locate the targets.

His wolves dig their claws into the dirt and foliage. Yet he is satisfied to see that his snarl of "On me" halts their restless movements.

He directs Beta to creep in the underbrush and scraps, keeping himself and the others out of sight. She was built for stealth, her camouflage activating without a sound as she crouches low to the wasted ground.

There are four targets: two females, two males. Each has a weapon that contains tech far more advanced than Government surmised. He has Beta take images to send to Scarlet One, the only commander he accepted.

( _Barry,_ groans the human heart,  _I'm so sorry, Barry_...)

Leonard processes possible tactics. His wolves want nothing more than to tear the targets apart, but their task is clear: one must be taken; the others may be dealt with as Alpha sees fit. Considering this, there are five viable plans that will maintain maximum efficiency.

Sending orders...final message added: [[The rest you may execute on my command]]

Epsilon sends him a wolfish grin as he sends them to their positions. The rebels begin a conversation in hushed tones.

One female says to the other, "Iris...I got a bad feeling."

"Me too," replies 'Iris', "everyone, stay alert."

"He ain't here," says the largest male, and Leonard—Le-leo-l-le-naaa-Len?—freezes.

That voice...it registers as familiar. Why is an ally among the targets? Leonard was not informed that this was to be an  _extraction_ instead of simple capture. Yet there is no other explanation available.

New parameters acknowledged.

"Even if he's not," the other male hisses, "there has to be some kind of trace left behind! If he was taken, it would've been last week  _tops_."

Ally stops, eyes flicking rapidly around the ruined street. The others turn to him.

"Move," he snaps quietly. Then, louder, " _M_ _ove_!"

Gamma pounces first, taking down not-Iris. As her comrades attempt to take aim, Epsilon and Delta leap from their positions. Maximum efficiency maintained.

Leonard stalks over, removing his goggles so his ally can perform a facial scan. Yet when he conducts his own, _File Not_ _Found_. Perhaps he does not have security clearance—irritating. He must complete more successful missions before he can begin hacking for necessary information that Government falsely believes will hinder his hunts. All information is relevant, after all.

However, his ally certainly recognizes him. His widening eyes are very...natural.

To Leonard's surprise, further inspection yields no trace metals besides what used to be the average human components.

"You were not restored," he says, slowly because the concept is so unusual.

The ally's breath punches out of him—" _Lenny_?"

Beta comes to his side, growling. She is saying, "No enhancements were needed, Alpha."

Len tilts his hea—protocol. Leonard straightens.

"State your name and rank," he orders.

"Lenny," the ally rasps again. His eyes have an odd shine; perhaps he has some form of enhancement after all? "I thought—we thought you were dead."

Leonard replies, "That is not an acceptable response. State your name and rank."

"Mick Rory!" the ally suddenly shouts, "I'm Mick Rory, and my  _rank_ is your partner!"

Leonard processes this information...Rory, Mick...Partner of Cold Five...

"Not found," he reports, switching to his gun and raising it. "You are an ally, but your name is not registered. Explain."

Mick Rory's face reddens. He is enraged. "What the fuck did they do to you?!"

"Captain Cold is a  _cyborg,_ " whispers the other male.

"Incorrect," Leonard replies, his primal instincts relishing in the way this male cowers under his gaze, "My rank is not Captain. Nor did I grant you permission to speak."

He turns back to Mick Rory.

"What's  _your_ name and rank then, huh?" Mick Rory barks, "Why don't you state those for me?"

Perhaps that will make him more comfortable, hearing a recognizable title. Leonard temporarily returns his arm to his side and recites, "Leonard Snart, Alpha of Cold Five Unit. Members consist of Beta, Gamma, Delta, and Epsilon. Under the command of Scarlet One."

" _Scarlet_?" Iris chokes, "what does tha—" Delta presses on her throat.

Mick Rory swallows. "And you don't got somethin' on me, Snart?"

Government is correct: without enhancements, humans are easily confused. Mick Rory is in need of restoration; Leonard must get him to the nearest reparation facility.

Slower, he repeats, "Rory, Mick, Partner of Cold Five, is not found."

"What about from your  _human side_ , huh?" Mick Rory yells, "You still got one 'a those?!"

Human side? Interesting.

"Are you suggesting a scan of human memory?" Leonard asks.

"Yeah. Fuckin'  _scan_ your memory."

"I do not have human memory, Mick Rory. Any and all knowledge has been transferred to my database, which has been updated extensively before this mission. My wolves have undergone similar updates."

Mick Rory looks devastated. "Lenny..."

"I do not understand why you are referring to me as 'Le—"

Ingrained.

Not programmed.

 _Ingrained_.

Leonard Snart straightens once more. "Mick. Acknowledged." (the human heart weeps with relief.)

Mick slumps in relief. "You remember me."

"Code: Mick is part of Prime Directive," Leonard corrects.

Mick's face contorts in confusion and sadness. " _Code_ , huh?" he mutters. Then, louder, "And what's that mean?"

Leonard replaces his gun with his hand, dutifully replying, "Prime Directive dictates that Code: Mick must be protected."

"Aw, Lenny..."

Mick embraces him. Leonard blinks, but returns the gesture as per the proper response. A small noise, and Mick tightens his hold.

"Let 'em go," he murmurs to Leonard, "let 'em go and come with me, if I'm so important to yah."

Leonard looks to the targets. His wolves have knocked them unconscious. That would explain why they have remained silent for so long.

"Code: Mick does not dictate obedience," Leonard tells him, "I am to protect Mick and see to his physical needs."

Mick releases a croaking laugh. "Physical needs, huh?"

"Correct."

"That wasn't—" Mick pulls back, "never mind, Snart." They stare at each other. " _Fuck_ , you're...they did a lot t'you."

Leonard nods in acknowledgement. "I required numerous repairs and mechanical enhancements to reach restoration."

"And these  _wolves_?"

"Cold Five is a hunting unit. Canines were deemed suited for my pack."

Mick blows out a breath. "So what're you gonna do, Snart? Don't sound like you'll come with me the easy way."

"My current mission is to retrieve one of the Resistance for questioning. Added parameters: protect Mick."

"Yeah, buddy, I know that last part. But what's Lisa s'pposed to do if you decide that 'protecting' me means takin' me too?"

Leonard blinks. "Lisa. Acknowledged."

Mick starts. "You got Lisa too?"

"Code: Lisa is the purpose of Prime Directive."

A sad chuckle. "Yeah, I bet she is. She wants to see you, y'know; told me last night all the things she would give up just to talk to you one last time."

"Location?"

"I ain't tellin' you. You wanna see Lisa, you follow me."

...unfortunate.

Leonard activates Beta's claw mechanism.

"I will ensure your safety before tracing the location of Code: Lisa."

Mick cries out as Beta injects the sedative. Meanwhile, the other three put Iris onto Delta's back. Leonard catches Mick as he falls to prevent damage to his fragile bones.

Resistance member captured. Mick is safe.

Scarlet One is informed; permission to return to base is granted.

Mission parameters reached.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wtaf is going on i don't even know

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know wtf this is tbh but I'm bursting with it. Feel free to come on by my ask box (URL is joker-quinn) if you want something else from this 'verse.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
